


Heartbeats and Daisies

by Mephistophilia



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mephistophilia/pseuds/Mephistophilia
Summary: For how long can a man keep falling?What if the Killing Curse does not take immediate effect?What killed Dumbledore, really?And what does he think of death?
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Kudos: 13





	Heartbeats and Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> Short one-shot that I typed out yesterday while waiting for my exams... yes, it is that time of year, isn’t it? I wanted to post this right away, since something tells me that Christmas deserves better, but you guys tell me in the comments what you think first.
> 
> Sorry to say that this might be my last Grindeldore fanfiction for at least a couple of weeks. There is the upcoming final exams, and also a paid commission where I’m going to have to translate a couple of fairytales for an author — the workload will begin piling in soon, but the pay is good if I can get it, so Sour Candy will have to take a backseat for a few weeks. One-shots like these may still drop down from time to time, as well as a few fanarts I’ll be posting on Tumblr, but I can’t guarantee much. Sorry. I’ve also been posting a lot of fanart on my Tumblr mephistophilia-k12, and finished writings will also be posted there.

_For how long can a man keep falling?_

The answer, he was afraid,  lies only in discovery through experimentation. It was a vague, inappropriate thought that flitted briefly through his mind as he tumbled off of the tower, right after the flash of green had blinded him and there was only air beneath his feet.

A man can fall for a  very long time.

Air lay beneath him, around him, above him, whistling past his ears at a high sharp pitch, drawing moisture from his eyes though he had screwed them tightly shut, whipping strands of his fleecy white locks into a frenzied rhapsody. His senses were heightened  —  they should not be  —  and though there was no more pain he could remember the taste of it, a dull broad ache that had spread through his frame earlier that evening. He could hear the pounding within his breast, a thunderous noise that drowned out all other sounds, and he listened to it  —  _ ba-boom. _

It was softer than a lover ’ s whisper in the morning, and louder than the sound of the world breaking apart.

He began to think of vague, unobtrusive things, things that had nothing to do with this very long fall or the events that had preceded it. Minerva ’ s greying hair, wound into an ever-tightening knob at the back of her head, skeins of it escaping from that tight bun as she hurried down the hallway, lips pressed together as though to halt a litany of harried curses. A Fifth Year in a green silk tie, ducking behind a granite column when he saw his history professor striding toward him. The evening light shimmering on the waters of the lake, iridescent like the insides of a conch shell in darkness. The rumbling of centaur hooves on the forest edge at dusk, as they trooped with their bows deeper into its unknown depths. 

_ Ba-boom. _

So much was left undone, unfinished, to be continued  —  and yet he had done enough. It was a gnarly, tangled mess that he ’ d left Harry behind in, but it was enough and always will be. He was a good boy, Harry, and he will be a good man. He already is. Kindness is in such short supply on his side of the world, but Harry ’ s store of it is unfailing. He does not understand yet what a gift that is, made rare and drunken and infinitely precious by his own infallible nature. It made him love.

So there really was no war at all, was there? All along, since the beginning, Harry had been set to win  —  but he suspected that Tom would ’ ve put up a fight anyway, just for the sake of it  — 

_ Ba-boom. _

Who was it that had said that death was such a terrifying thing? There is seldom a lie more vile. It was only the darkness that they found fearful, that and nothing more  —  darkness and death and the possibility of failure, brought about by changes beyond one ’ s control. That was all they had been afraid of, every last one of them, like children lying in the dark, waiting for sleep to hunt them down.

Ariana had never liked the dark. He found himself wondering if she still hates it as much as she did.

_ Ba-boom. _

He was not above fear. No one is. But he had learned to conceal it, to push it under the carpet with one high-heeled foot because that was what everyone expects of him, that and so much more. He was the one they looked to for answers, for explanations, for leniency and aid and a kind word to soothe an aching conscience or any number of ills that magic could not cure, yet nobody had suspected that he was the one most in need of healing. No one knew, and no one had even suspected.

That is, no one except for Gellert.

_ Gellert. _

He could think of the other man now, with neither resentment nor regret. Half a century had elapsed since their last meeting, and it was much too late for either emotion to take hold and grow. They had not parted on the best of terms, but then, none of these goodbyes were ever considered sweet and flawless. He had pondered before what might have happened if the two of them had never met, and the answer was always the same  —  there was no  “ if ”  to be imagined. Every time he dared to dream of a world in which he never knew Grindelwald, he had paused at a gap where the end of his school days were broaching upon adulthood, and found himself unable to move past that one point. It was almost as though his brain was refusing to contemplate the barest trace of a world where he and Gellert did not meet, and then making its displeasure known to him. 

He could see Gellert curled into a ball, shivering as the Alpine wind gnawed and spat out every inch of his exposed skin, and he felt his heart shriveling as well, shriveling like the skeletal men they both were. 

What had happened was what had to happen.

_ Ba-boom. _

The ending is of no consequence. They knew how it would end. They had always known it. What matters is how they got there. That was the only thing of value they could take with them.

_ We were to exit this world as pennilessly as we have entered it. But now we have something. _

That something was what made one life different from all the others as it floated in a homogeneous sea with no edge. Every step they took  —  every inch covered with the flow of their blood and tears  —  it is a river of molten gold, sluggish with warmth and so blindingly, unapologetically bright. There was nothing for him to regret, nothing to wail over or lament in silence, only dead yew leaves and a little dust that gets left behind when the party is finished. 

_Ba-boom._

Who else will understand that? He did, and perhaps Gellert did also, though it was hard to be certain when they are separated by a sea, by mountain ranges, by thick, towering walls and nearly a century of unspoken words and misunderstandings. He hoped that Gellert understood, or at least might suspect it sometime near the end, if only for the sake of being able to smile sadly at him from afar, at the belated recognition that would come and do no good. It never matters, where we arrive at in the end  —  the destination is the same for everyone, only we reach it in a myriad of different ways.

He could see the tops of the high fir trees on the castle grounds, looming tall and dark and silent, impassive guardians, witnesses to centuries of untold miracles. It is such a miracle to live, and even more so to love  —  and the people around him are all taking it for granted, breathing and moving and laughing and complaining about tomorrow as though today is a curse that doesn ’ t end. 

Though it will. Inevitably. Eventually. It ends.

_ Ba-boom. _

If he could go back and undo the one thing that he regrets the most, it would be to undo his decision to go back in the first place. The wind whistling past his ear was sinking in its pitches, and his robes were full of cold wind. The luminous green skull hanging above the Astronomy Tower was slowly dispersing, fading into misty wisps of its former self. He watched them float away, further and further off into the ether, disappearing at last to reveal a belt of silver stars.

_ Gellert. _

**Author's Note:**

> See what I mean about this not being Christmas-appropriate... Yeah. If it hurts, just go reread As in Memories. It’s a pair, all right. Comments?


End file.
